Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Hudson
Ihaven’t laughed to the point of my stomach hurting in a long time.
Archer and Matt were arguing over who won the bet they made— who could chug their milkshake first. They’d slammed their glasses down at the same time, hence the argument.
In the middle of his explanation for why he won, Archer burped and up came part of his milkshake, splattering Matt’s lap.
Red-faced, Archer dug a twenty from his pocket and shoved it at Matt’s chest.
Matt has just come back from the bathroom after cleaning himself up, a scowl marring his face. “Can’t believe you barfed on me,” he grumbles, scooting his chair further away from Archer.
“It’s your fault! You made the bet, dude,” Archer argues back.
Matt rolls his eyes and shoves a fry in his mouth.
Archer sighs, pushing his empty burger basket aside. “Anyway, any updates on the stalker front?”
The laughter around the table dies down.
Matt wipes his mouth with his napkin and leans forward. “Yeah, have the cops figured anything out yet?”
Cull and I exchange a glance, his jaw set hard.
“Yeah, they found a camper on the other side of the tree line at the river.” I tell them.
“A camper?” Matt asks, brow scrunched.
“Yeah. It was filled with random photos and unsent letters to Hudson.” There is a hard edge to Cullen’s voice, so I rub my hand down his thigh to try and soothe him.
He exhales and brings his arm around the back of my chai,"
“Apparently, it’s only a few hundred yards from Mason Keller’s backyard. They made the connection and went to question him, but the fucker claims to not know anything.” Cullen slouches in his seat, frowning. I squeeze his knee beneath the table, and some of the tension leaves his face.
“That sucks, dudes. Any other leads?” Archer asks.
“Ella. Wouldn’t surprise me after the shit she pulled,” Cull grumbles.
“What shit did Ella pull?” Matt and Archer practically say at the same time. They look at each other and chuckle.
I sigh and then delve into the story of everything Ella has done over the last few months.
“But she’s not my stalker,” I tell them. “I asked her and she said no.”
Cull scoffs. “Yeah, like you can take her at her word.”
“I agree with Cull,” Matt chimes in. “Besides, I never liked the chick.”
I look at Cullen, then to my two closest friends and frown. “Did none of y’all like Ella?”
Cullen has made his stance clear. I just didn’t know everyone else possibly felt the same way.
Archer looks guilty, but finally rolls his eyes and spits it out. “Fine. I wasn’t a fan, but only because of the pill thing. When you two were dating… or whatever it was y’all were doing, I didn’t say anything because I knew she was your friend before any of us.”
“How long did you know about her habit?”
Archer stares off, his eyes squinting. “Maybe since sophomore year? I watched her buy some heavy stuff from a senior at a football game one night. Apparently, kids steal their parents’ scripts and Ella pays them.” He finishes with a shrug.
“That… sucks,” I finally mutter. “I never knew any of that. It wasn’t until a few months ago that I even found out.”
Just goes to show you never really know someone.
Look who’s talking.
“Sorry, babe.” Cullen squeezes my shoulder, then continues on with the conversation, changing the subject back to Mason. “So if it isn’t Ella, then it’s definitely Mason.”
Cullen and Archer bounce theories off of each other while I just sit and listen.
Matt grabs his phone, his brows scrunched as he scrolls.
“You okay, man?” I ask him.
Matt’s head snaps up, his face confused for a moment before it smooths out. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Mom is nagging me to get home to cut the grass before it rains.” He stands and throws the twenty Archer just gave him down on the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”
I check the time on my phone. “We should get going, too. I wanted to stop by the mall.”
We stand, Cullen putting money down for our share of the bill, then head out into the parking lot.
“Hey, we never got around to that double date. What are you and Theo up to next week?” I ask Archer.
A date would be fun, and Theo seemed like a cool guy. The four of us could have a good time hanging out.
Cull nudges me in the ribs and gives me a look.
“Ow, what was that for?”
Archer’s gone pale, lips pressed tight.
“They broke up, Hud,” Cullen tells me.
“You what? Archer, dude, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head and shrugs. “Don’t apologize, Hud. He showed his true colors, and I wasn’t going to stay with someone like that. Especially someone who—you know what? Never mind. He’s not worth talking about.”
The tightness around Archer’s eyes betrays his true feelings, but I let the subject go.
“Anyway, I’m going to get home. I’ll see you guys later.” Archer bro hugs us both, then climbs into his cherry-red Mustang—his graduation gift—and drives off.
“You could have warned me about Archer and Theo,” I grumble as we walk towards Cullen’s truck in the back of the parking lot.
“It slipped my mind. He told me while you were in the hospital, so you can imagine it wasn’t on my list of priorities of things to remember.”
Once in Cull’s truck, I fasten my seatbelt and sigh. “I missed an entire month of my life. So much happened and I haven’t bothered to ask anyone about anything.” I lean my head against the window, guilt creeping up behind me for the first time in weeks.
I’ve been working my ass off in therapy, learning to forgive myself for what I did.
The first couple of weeks were almost unbearable, full of guilt and self-loathing, and it took a long time for me to actually give myself mercy.
Stuff like this, though? It knocks me right back down a peg and lets that shame resurface just a little.
Cull grabs my hand as he navigates out of the parking lot towards the mall. “Don’t do that to yourself, baby. No one expects you to be interested in anything other than getting better right now.”
The first drops of rain splatter across Cullen’s windshield as I consider his words. Within seconds, rain is hammering the windshield hard enough that the road nearly disappears.
“Damnit,” Cull mutters, checking his instrument panel. “My tire light just came on.”
Cullen shifts in his seat, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
“Do you feel that?”
Before I can answer, a deafening bang erupts from somewhere beneath us.
“Fuck!” Cull yells.
The truck fishtails, the back end swinging violently across the wet road.
We hit the curb, and time slows as my side of the truck lifts into the air. Cull and I both shout, and my hand shoots out, bracing against the dashboard. My seatbelt locks against my chest hard enough to steal my breath.
For one endless second, the truck feels weightless before it slams back down onto the pavement.
The airbags explode around us, metal screeching as the truck skids to a stop, leaving only our ragged breathing in the silence.